Alpha
by Chimerical Knave
Summary: Every ending has a beginning.
1. Chapter 1

_Chimerical_Knave_

**Alpha**

_**1

* * *

**_

_Earth was no more—well, Earth as we knew it. It wasn't a place for everyone and it certainly wasn't a safe haven anymore—at least not where I was. It was you and them. And it was either them or you're dead._

_Humanity? What a bunch of chestnuts. There were barely any humans left alive to go about spouting stuff about protecting each other and other nonsense. Though, I've got to say that Liberty City is a new light in this dark era._

_I've read a lot about extinct species but never before had humans been on that list. What was the cause you might ask yourself? Stem-cell research. Well, not exactly, you can't go and give stem cells all the credit. You'd have to include nano-bots and science . . . also technology._

_Sometimes things happen that people just don't see coming. And who can blame them? Who would've thought that the result from that new technology caused the human's demise? Who could've thought that those innovative researches brought forth a new kind of human species:_

_**Stalkers.**_

_Signed, Larry._

_Late February. I forgot the exact date._

_..._

_..._

_...

* * *

_

_**February 5, 2540**_

In the trashed and ruined semi-wastelands of what used to be New York City there stood a huge barricade that surrounded the former great city. A large steel wall that kept out foreigners and Stalkers.

The term that had replaced New York City was Liberty City.

Liberty City was a sort of safe haven founded almost sixty years ago by former billionaire Sylvester Sinner, a Wall Street stock/share-holder who had foreseen much potential in the NTL, Nano-Tech Labs, and Jacob Eager, a scientist who had successfully fused stem-cell's regenerative ability with nano-bot technology; a shocking breakthrough even for the 25th Century.

But that was eons ago. Sylvester was now buried in the ground with a tombstone commemorating his cause, sadly, Jacob's name was a sort of a taboo thing. Even though he caused the infection, it was far from his intentions.

Liberty City was currently being overseen by both Patrick Sinner and John Eager. Even though Jacob was something of a taboo subject, the citizens of Liberty didn't seem to pass the grudge and status of his father down to his son. John was in the safe zone . . . for now. And since Patrick was the main one in charge, he had to do all the talking, kissing, and sometimes killing. Currently engaged in a heated meeting with John and a dozen others inside the Tower, there was Patrick as cool headed as ever.

The Tower, by the way, was the only skyscraper left standing in New York City, hence it's name. It located in the center of the complex infrastructure of Liberty City. A tall erect structure that stuck out like a sore thumb. Anyone wanting to cross through the area would be able to see that from miles away. It not only served as a beacon for survivors but it also served as a warning to hostile raiders. Liberty City was well protected by walls and it had a functioning military of its own. All attacks on Liberty City in the past had been warded off easily.

Other than serving as a large signal to by passers it was probably one of the few surviving multiple story buildings out there. When Sylvester found it, it was bare steel bones but through renovation and sheer willpower he managed to build the protective wall around it and expand the city, fixing up the building later on in the Liberty project.

"So . . . after ten years, there's still no indication of the virus receding or weakening?" Patrick lazily looked around the table.

Jacob responded first. "Correct. Matter of fact, I do believe that they've grown vastly in numbers and strength."

Patrick ran his fingers through his hair, his palm slapped the surface of the table. "So you still haven't been able to create the cure, much less have a lead to it?"

"I'm afraid not." John folded his hands patiently.

Another scientist spoke up.

"A cure is impossible to find. The effects are irreversible. This is hopeless."

Patrick frowned. "So do you suggest that we open the gates and let them all in?"

"That's not wha-

"It must be what you're trying to say, since finding the cure is impossible and continuing to survive is hopeless . . . according to you, that is."

The scientist remained silent and Patrick turned his attention back to the rest of the members.

"Since finding the cure is out of the question at this stage we must take the next best step."

A pause to which Jacob inquired, "And what would that be, Pat?"

Patrick leaned forward in his chair and clasped his hands together. "No cure? No problem. What about a solution."

Jacob's right eye rose in interest. "A solution?"

Patrick locked his eyes with Jacob's. "Precisely."

Walking past dark brick apartments in the setting sun were two figures: a father and his son. As the father led his son past empty alleyways, the young sport pranced around him, happy. They were making their way to the Market.

The Market was an open stall free market where any and all sorts of people made their living by trading through vendors. While useless trinkets were usually sold, treasures could be found if one took the time to go through every single stall.

The Market, strangely, did not sell any fresh produce. Food, in general, was rationed and the military distributed them every afternoon through human convoys to various areas of the city called sectors. As far as meat went, everyone could only dine on fish and seafood. There were no farms out West from which they could transport red meat. No one was alive to do that. At least, to their knowledge there wasn't anybody left.

Libertan City had its own produce garden so there was no need for farmers. The produce farm was kept securely in a large greenhouse-like structure, located near the Tower. It was also connected to the warehouse that stored the fish meat, among other foods. The warehouse was in constant lockdown and security checks so stealing was deterred for the most part.

"Dad?" The youngster piped. "Why can't we ever go outside the city?"

Ben chuckled and sat down on the foot of some weathered stone stairs. "You know, about two hundred years back we wouldn't have lived this way. Before, we could've chosen to go outside the city whenever we wanted to."

The child cocked his head to the side. "So . . . what happened?"

The father beckoned him to sit on his lap.

"Well, you see, there's a couple stories about what exactly happened. Anything ranging from mad scientists to government conspiracies. But I think the one that my father told me is true. It all happened two hundred years ago when...


	2. Chapter 2

_Chimerical_Knave_

**Alpha**

_**2

* * *

**_

**_March 21, 2202_**

"Today, mankind has once again proven to mother nature that we can adapt, and that we can improve our lives using the tools she hands us. Thanks to the brilliant mind and dedicated heart of Jacob Eager we have successfully combined, what was once viewed upon as an act of taking up the role of God, stem-cell research, along with advanced nano-bot technology. This medical and technological breakthrough could very well change the face of th-

A middle aged man watching the HoloTiv from his kitchen powered the device off, cutting off the morning anchor woman. His somewhat younger wife entered a moment later, planting a quick one on his right cheek.

"Why'd you turn off the Tiv? I wanted to hear about the weather."

The husband took a sip of his coffee before answering, "It was about stem-cells and nano-bots again. I didn't want to hear any of it." He unfolded the newspaper that had been lying on the table.

"Still against it?" She sighed.

"You better believe it. Anyhow, how is junior doing?"

"Oh, the usual except that he only needed one diaper change for the night."

"Is that so?" He flipped through the newspaper a couple of times. "Oh, would you look at that?"

"What is it?" She looked up from the toaster.

"It says here that a Sylvester Sinner bought 60% of Nano-Tech Labs a couple months before the breakthrough. He could be a multibillionaire now if he sells all of his stocks and shares. Amazing how the world works. Right? I mean, with nano-bot-stem-cells and multibillionaires."

"Absolutely not. This is all the work of God. He obviously intended for us to discover that and to benefit from it."

The husband looked up from his Wall Street Journal and raised his right eye-brow. "You sure about that? It says here that an stem-cell fused nano-bot implant would cost ten grand. And that's just for your hand. I don't think that we're going to benefit from it at all."

"Oh hush. I'm sure the price will go down in time. It always does." She set the jelly covered toasted bread in front of him.

"Really? And how long do you think that will take before either of us can afford it? Ten years?" He refolded his newspaper.

"Forget I even mentioned it. Now hurry up. You're going to miss work if you get caught up in rush-hour."

"Point taken. I'll be on my way now." The husband stuffed the toast in his mouth and drained it down with lukewarm coffee.

Outside his apartment there was a constant stream of people bustling left on one end of the street while a surge of others started to head right on the other side of the street.

Inside the apartment, the wife turned the HoloTiv back on and watched the last few seconds of the interview with Jacob Eager.

"And that's how I successfully fused stem-cells with nano-bots."

"Mr. Eager, some people criticize you for trying to play God. Your comments?"

"Well, I say that it's all poppy. I invented something that has the constructive ability of a human cell, yet also the endurance of a machine, and they want to condemn me for it? We are using human innovation to pave a path for human immortality. What is evil about wanting to see your children and grandchildren grow up? What's evil about wanting to spend time with them in their extracurricular activities? It's all rubbish, I think. Religious people will always be slow to accept the future."

"There you have it folks. Give a round of applause for Mr. Eager! I'll see you next time on Prime Time Live."

_**January 3, 2203**_

_"Jacob Eager is proud to announce that nano-bot implants will be available to all from now on. Your insurance will cover the cost of an implant. From now on, you won't have to worry about your grandchildren. Everyone can be there for them."_

_**May 26, 2204**_

"The police investigates the sudden homicide of Kyle Bates. He was taken from his home this Tuesday, restrained in not one, but two cuffs, as they carried away his wife and two kids to the hospital; both in critical condition. The police are not yet revealing any answers but they do believe that this is directly related to the nano-bot implants that he has inside of his body. More details later on."

"In other places, the country of Hungary has fallen into a state of anarchy. The people have all rebelled and overthrown the government. It appears that the EU will intervene but even they are unsure of what will result from the waging battles. From this inside video we can see hundreds of people passing through the streets and overturning cars. Casualties are not yet known but the number are rising as we speak. We are not yet sure of why so many people rebelled but we do have a refugee with us that has a couple of words to say."

"The people . . . they eyes. It not human! They come at me and I ask them what is happening? But they ignore me and hit me. I try to hitting back but almost they don't know what is pain. I use wooden stick and broke on his back. He still came at me like he didn't feel it. I escape with life. The people over there are become crazy or something!"

"There you have it. He is currently being treated at a local hospital for injuries, all of them are minor injuries limited to cuts and bruises. We will have more information on the situation later on. This is Moria Sanders and I'll see you next time on Channel 5 Action News."

The man watching the Holotiv from his sofa groaned as a spasm of pain erupted for the twelve time in his right arm for the day. The random and sudden spasms had started a couple months ago but he figured it was because of a torn ligament in his arm from his rigorous work-out. Now he was worried that it was something else.

He tried to stand up but he ended up falling and knocking a vase over. His wife investigated the noise.

"Fred? You alright?"

For some reason, he couldn't feel his arm any more. He looked at it. Did it just make a closed fist by itself? He tried to open his fist again. It opened just an inch. He reached over with his free hand and felt his frozen arm. It felt rock solid, almost like he was flexing it. But he wasn't putting any strength into that arm though.

Just as Fred reached for the phone his arm unfroze and he could feel the armrests of the chair again. He brought his arm up and examined it, flexing it at the same time. It looked pale compared to his other arm.

Fred frowned. "I'm not sure. My arm wasn't moving."

Mari shook her head. "I'm telling you, you should see a doctor if your arm hurts that much. I keep telling you but you just won't listen."

Fred waved her worries away. "It's just stress, that's all. How bout some tea?"

Mari stared at him for a second. "Sure."

She disappeared into the kitchen.

A moment after that it started up again . . . but this time it didn't just affect his arms. Fred tried to stand up but his legs were locked in place as well and when he tried to speak he found that he couldn't—his jaw was clenched. He sat there for a good minute trying to fight it.

When his muscles relaxed he gasped, taking in large gulps of air, sweat rolling down the sides of his face.

Mari walked into the room holding a tray with two steaming cups. "Tea's read- Fred, what's the matter now?"

His arms shot up and knocked the tray out of her arms. "Fred! What are you-

"Stay away," Fred managed to groan. His lower jaw felt like jello and there was a constant buzzing inside of his head, impairing his train of thought. He stumbled into the wall and a picture shattered onto the floor.

"Fred?" She ignored his warning and stepped in closer, placing her hand on his shoulder.

He didn't know what happened next. His right arm came up and grasped his wife's throat. It was almost as if his body was being controlled by something else, something from within. He could see his wife choking, her arms wildly batting at his face, but he wasn't able to relax his grip at all; matter of fact, he couldn't feel any nerves inside of his body.

Fred tossed his wife against the wall and she bounced off. She crawled into the kitchen, crying. "Fred! Stop it Fred!"

He planted a foot forward, and then the other, making his way into the kitchen.

Mari scrambled to her feet, her hands rubbing her neck. She opened a drawer and pulled out a steak knife, holding it out in front of her with both hands. "Fred. I'm serious. Stop right now!"

Fred didn't hear her. He was gone.

He lunged at her and Mari screamed as she stabbed the knife into his chest. She let go of the handle that was protruding from Fred's chest. He took a step back and his head lolled about lazily. Fred dropped to the floor at Mari's feet.

She was too shocked to scream anymore. Mari knelt next to the body, her hands shaking. "Fred?"

She rolled his body over and cringed at the sight. Blood dribbling down the side of chest. She grasped the knife handle and sobbed before pulling it out.

The blade was crimson, blood dripping from its tip. Mari threw it to the floor and hugged Fred's body, all the while crying.

Fred's finger twitched.

Mari felt the rise and fall of his chest and looked up.

He growled.

"Fred?"

His face came up, shrieking, and his teeth sank into Mari's arm.


	3. Chapter 3

_Chimerical_Knave_

**Alpha**

_**3

* * *

**_

_**February 19, 2540.**_

Everyone leaned forward in their chairs but only John's voice was heard. "A . . . solution?"

"Precisely."

Patrick stood up and began to survey the briefing room.

"We still have technology and manpower. Why limit ourselves to this circular cage? The cure isn't the only answer, you know?"

John began to nod his head. "I see where you're getting at now."

Patrick approvingly shot his finger at John. "You always were quick to catch on John. What I'm trying to tell you gentlemen is that we must find an efficient way to battle the nano-bots. Something that will destroy them instead of resisting them. Something that will fight them instead of treating them."

At this point, all the board members were now nodding their heads as they understood Patrick's radical concept.

John was the only one to shake his head though. "That might be just as hard as finding a cure."

Patrick could only shrug. "We'll have to see."

There was technology available that could render the nano-bots useless: EMP towers. But those gargantuan steel structures were inefficient in the fact that it took out every power source within its rather large radius. While it could kill off hundreds of Stalkers, it would, at the same time, cripple any and all operable mechanisms; thus turning Libertan City into a circular-caged slaughter house.

And while EMP guns also existed, they were not at all power efficient. It didn't take out whole sections of power from Libertan City like the EMP towers did but its use was still limited.

Not only was the EMP gun brilliantly large, it wasn't very mobile. One would have to wear a heavy-duty strap-on of some sort if they wanted to tote one of those tumors around. And if that wasn't bad enough, the carrying capacity was very limited: Only five shots. Granted, each shot did have a high possibility of transferring from one Stalker to the next one, so technically it would be ten shots . . . or even fifteen or twenty, if you were lucky enough.

It had a modified chamber built inside, the reason for its bulky size, to store "energy cells"; but in all reality, these "energy cells" were nothing but batteries that had accumulated hours upon hours of solar energy.

The scattered EMP towers around the fortified city had solar panels which gathered solar energy for the majority of the day. Within the tower there was hundreds upon hundreds of stored batteries. One could only guess why these EMP towers failed to dole out more devastating damage than it already did.

At this point, Patrick sat back down and opened the folder that had been laid in front of him.

"You will all be employed in the Alpha program, taking effect as of today. Ergo, be warned that this project is a dangerous one and must remain a secret for the time being. If word gets out without my permission . . . well, let's just say that Libertan City will not be a safe haven for you any longer. Do I make myself clear?"

The rest of the seated members could only stare.

"And, this isn't a threat, it's a promise. The people of Libertan may or may not approve of this project since it will include altering stem cells. It has been a while since we last touched stem-cells but there are willing donators within the city. Don't worry about anything else."

Patrick pulled out a stack of papers and handed them to an assistant who then began to pass them out.

"These are your assigned numbers and stations. There are three stations and five numbers per station. Consider those within your subsequent stations as a part of your unit or group. You better get to know them because they are not moving to another unit."

As the last of the papers got passed, Patrick rose and clasped his hands. "Thank you gentlemen for your time."

As everyone stood up to leave, Patrick, at the door, casually said, "You will be escorted from your apartment at exactly seven . . . so I suggest that you say your good-byes before then. You'll be employed for a very, very long time, I suspect."

John frowned, as did everyone else. "And just how long would that be?"

The corner of Patrick's mouth twitched into a slight smile. "As long as it takes."

As John Eager left the building's premises he couldn't help but wonder what he had gotten himself into.

"Kay, I'm home!"

Silence greeted John.

"Kayla?"

John checked the dining room and living room but his daughter was nowhere to be found. He opened the closet door and went through the bedrooms. Empty.

"Just where in the hell?"

Sitting on top of a scouting truck, there were two silhouettes enveloped by the sun's rays.

One of them was the runaway. Kayla.

She was a young woman at the age of 19; and as most beautiful women at that ripe age, Kayla had a svelte body.

"You like the view? I mean, the city is in ruins but-

"Of course I like the view. It's better than what I have to watch inside the city."

"Kayla, at least you have a home inside the city." The young teen responded.

"Well, at least you have freedom. I'm always stuck with my dad wherever he goes. Besides, it isn't 'safe' for us to go outside the city limits."

"You're safe with me though."

She cuddled herself closer to his chest. "I know."

He wrapped his arms around her and they both watched the sun sink lower and lower.

All of the sudden, a ear-shattering horn broke through their peaceful slumber. It's vibrations were felt through the chassis of the truck.

"Looks like our time is up. You never told me what happens if you get locked outside the city."

"They won't let you back in until the next morning. Either that, or you get shot at for being mistaken as a Stalker."

"You could always hang out with my group."

"My father would be worried sick and probably organize some midnight search party. I don't want that happening all over me."

"Right. But the nearest gate is way over there. Don't you need a ride?" He smirked.

"You mean you weren't going to give me a ride anyway?"

"Hey, there's no such thing as a free lunch. The fare for this ride is one kiss."

Kayla smiled and leaned forward. "I think I left my kiss back at the city gate."

He immediately responded, "That'll be two kisses then."

"Deal." She jumped into the passenger seat and the vehicle shot forward.

In a matter of seconds, Kayla was at the entrance of the gate. She jumped out and gave a peck on her boyfriend's right cheek.

She could see the guards inside the EMP tower tense up.

"It's okay! He's clean!"

One of them shouted back. "You don't know that for sure! And besides this gate closes in one minute! You better get your business done quick!"

Kayla turned her attention back to her partner.

"That was your first kiss. Now here's your second."

She pressed her lips against his and gave him a mouthful of swirling surprises. This euphoria of saliva salvation lasted for only five seconds, but it was enough to catch the attention of more than a few passing pedestrians.

Kayla let go of his hands and sauntered backwards. "I'll see you tomorrow."

"Same gate?", He shouted.

"Same gate!"

Their parting was interrupted by the unmistakable, and unbearable, grating of the huge metal cogs. The giant gate slowly began to descend from its usual stationary spot: suspended in the air between two walls. Within seconds the gate clamped down on the dusty ground, spewing sand everywhere.

Kayla waved from behind the gate as her male counterpart drove away.

She looked up at the darkening sky and sighed.

John shook his head. "Kayla! Where were you? Do you know what time it is?"

She sighed as she pulled up a chair. "Relax. I didn't venture out too far into the city."

"You don't understand Kayla. At exactly seven you won't be seeing me anymore."

Kayla instantly sat up in her chair, alert. "What do you mean?"

"I can't tell you everything but let's just say that I've been selected to be a part of a special unit."

Kayla stood up. "Another unit? They're putting you in the militia? But you're too old t-

"Listen to me Kayla. No one knows about this unit. What I've been employed to do is far more important than just the militia."

John wiped the sweat from his brow with his shirt sleeve.

"Kayla . . . I'm being employed to find a solution to the nano-bot epidemic."

She shut her eyes and sighed relief before sitting back down again. "So . . . you're going to find a cure?"

"Not exactly but that's the basic premises. You musn't tell anyone! I'm only letting you know this so that you won't be worried while I'm gone."

"Wait . . . won't you come back by the end of the day?"

"I'm afraid that Patrick won't let us."

"How long will you be gone?"

Kayla didn't seem to understand the situation.

"Kayla, finding the cure won't take a day or two. This project may take weeks, even months. I'll be gone for a long time." Then, he added in a whisper, "This may be the last time we see each other this year."

Her eyes began to shimmer. "But I don't want to be left alone. Who's going to take care of me when you're gone?"

"Kayla, if you're old enough to roam the city by yourself then you are old enough to take care of yourself. You're strong girl. You'll do just fine. Come here . . . give me one last hug."

She flew into his outstretched arms and they held each other there.

"Promise me that you won't do anything reckless?" John whispered.

Kayla paused.

"I promise."

"Because if something happens to you while I'm gone, I probably won't find out . . . and even if I did, I would be powerless, locked away in some laboratory."

Kayla smiled and wiped away her tears.

"I'm not stupid dad. I'll take care of myself just fine. Please, promise me that you'll try and find the cure as quick as possible."

John stuck out his little pinky. "Promise."

Kayla entered the pact and sealed it with her own pinky.

At this point, there were several knocks at the door. It opened a second later and three militiamen entered the room.

"John Eager, you are hereby summoned because the board of directories has issued an investigation. Please, leave any and all belongings here as you will no longer be needing them."

John stood up and smiled at his distraught daughter. Kayla could only wipe away her still flowing tears and nod her head.

"Don't worry Kayla. I'm going to be perfectly safe."

"Promise me that you won't do anything reckless."

"I promise." John said as he walked out the door, escorted by three militia personal.

Kayla ran to the front door and watched the four figures dim into the shadows and then disappear around a corner.


	4. Chapter 4

_Chimerical_Knave_

**Alpha**

_**4

* * *

**_

_Liberty city is said to be founded upon humane virtues. Yet, like the Colonies, they fear what they do not know. I think it's going to get harder and harder for me to do this._

_This may be the last time that I travel there. I'm getting old and I'm not sure that I want to keep on at it._

_Signed, Lazarus_

_Still February. I think it's the 29th.

* * *

_

_**February 29, 2540**_

A cloaked figure approached the formidable gates of Liberty City. A thick sandy coating of dust could be seen lying on the cloak. On his back, there was a rather large knapsack.

One of the guards standing in the EMP tower called out to him, "Stop right there! State your business!"

The cloaked figure reached into the knapsack and pulled out a bundle of stacked batteries.

"I've come here to trade."

"How can we be so sure?"

"I can guarantee you that these are fully charged, fully operational batteries!" The man shouted back.

"We don't like strangers inside our city. We'll do your trade right where you are." The guard said.

"That's quite enough Moses!" A powerful voice rang out.

"But sir! I -

The African officer stared the guard down.

"Sir."

The cloaked stranger standing outside somehow knew the commanding officer.

"Louis! Glad to see you again."

"That's the third time I had to save your ass!"

"Shut up and let me in!"

Louis nodded to the guard.

"Alright." The guard turned to the control room located inside the tower. "Let him in!"

The gates clanked to life and rose just a few feet off the ground. The man slid the bundle across the ground and then crawled underneath.

As soon as he got to his feet, he was surrounded by four militia. "Do you have any weapons on you?"

"I only have this." He pulled out a battered hand-held device from beneath his many layers of clothing.

"Hand over your pistol. You'll retrieve it as you leave the city."

Louis stepped in. "That won't be necessary. How dare you treat our honored guest like this? Is this what Liberty City was founded upon? To bar all outsiders?"

The militia looked to each other and began to back away from Lazarus.

"And besides he has batteries. Do you know how valuable these things are?"

Louis handed back Lazarus's pistol.

Lazarus surveyed his age-old friend before taking off his turban. "Thanks."

This time it was Louis's turn to look upon his friend's face. "Damn, you've changed!"

Lazarus was slightly taller than Louis and a lot less built. His ears were slightly pointed, but it was barely noticeable. His face was rugged and sunken in. On top of his head, there lay matted and flattened layers of hair.

"You too. You seem to have gotten shorter."

He smirked, "Don't make me throw your ass out there."

Lazarus put his hands up defensively. "I'll behave, officer."

Louis put his palm up and smiled. "You headed to the Market, right?"

"Nope. I've got a much larger load of batteries this time. I'm going straight to the Tower."

"Ah . . . trying to bargain with the surps? Right, I'll take you to Patrick then."

As Louis escorted Lazarus towards the Tower, he couldn't help but wonder how his friend survived out there.

"Lazarus?"

"Come on, just call me Lars."

"Fine by me. Lars, just how do you survive out there?"

Lars chuckled at his remark. "What do you mean how? I just survive like any other animal."

"I mean . . . you aren't a part of us or the Colonists. Are you a part of some other faction that we don't know of? Perhaps the Remnant?"

"Nope . . . I don't like to tie myself down. Sooner or later, it all gets to your head."

"I know what you mean. Looking back at Moses' attitude towards you I think he needs to be relieved of his duty."

"Don't worry about it cuz next time I'll just use a different gate."

They both chuckled.

Lars stretched his arms. "So, what exactly are the Libs doing these days?"

"Nothing much. We still got our usual patrols around the city. I think one of our patrols spotted a raiding party a little North of here but they know better than to bother us."

"I ran into a small party of raiders just a couple days ago. They thought it would be fun to mess around with me. Taught those sons of bitches that they should be careful who they pick on."

Louis glanced at Lars's exposed arm and inquired. "Is that why your right arm is bandaged?"

"I'm not exactly what I used to be back in the day."

Louis gave a hearty laugh. "Back in the day? You never were fit for anything."

"And you had to get your ass saved by me out there."

He paused to think back on the past. "You're right. You know, Libs were a lot more friendly ten years ago."

"I never liked factions. Anyways, is that it?"

"Well, what does it look like to you?"

"A big, glass building that doesn't fit in."

The many glass panels reflected the sunlight into Lazarus's eyes. Wired fences lined the outside of the building, sandbags piled up as defensive layouts. At the double door entrance, there were several guards.

Louis walked up to them and flashed a card. "He's with me."

"Protocol states that only those with identification or permits may enter the premises."

"Really? Well, protocol also states that I am your superior and as such you shall obey me. Now I said that he's with me. Do I make myself clear?"

"Yes sir."

"Good." Louis nodded to Lars.

The inside of the building was drastically different compared to the outside. Clean and spotless. White marble tiles lining the floor, adjacent to finely carved stone walls. Every now and then, Lars noticed an occasional decoration of a vase of flowers or a portrait of someone, probably deceased.

He stopped at a certain portrait located right before the elevator. It was a tan skinned European male with broad shoulders and a chiseled face. His gray hair was short.

Lazarus admired the portrait. _A rich, powerful man._

"That is a picture of my great, great grandfather, Sylvester Sinner." A voice echoed through the open grounds.

Lars turned to see a fairly normal sized man, slightly younger than himself but also slighter taller, taking a casual stride towards them. He sported a black stripped vest and equally black slacks that reached all the way down to his even blacker loafers. His face was just as handsome as the portrait's, if not handsomer. On top of his head, there was a fine wavy savanna of charcoal hair. It let loose some strands onto his forehead as he came to a stopping place before Lazarus.

"Patrick Sinner, pleasure to meet you." He held out his hand.

"Lazarus. Just Lazarus." He firmly shook Patrick's hand.

"So you're the man who's been supplying my city?" Patrick headed for the elevator.

"How'd you know?"

"It's not so hard once you see a man holding a bag full of goodies."

"Just a peddler who's interested in making a slight profit."

"But in this day and age, all peddlers are considered businessmen. And a good businessman knows good commodity when he sees one."

The elevator lurched upward like groggy beast. Louis stood impassive to the side as the conversation carried on.

"But what good does knowing good commodity do for you if you can't get them to your customers in a efficient way or in large quantities?"

Patrick smiled. "Supply and demand mean everything in an evolving economy-

The elevator doors opened after a friendly chime greeted them. Patrick resumed his point in the hallway.

-but We don't have a practical means to travel long distances over land these days so anything goes. The only thing that matters is supply and demand. I have the demand . . . you have the supply."

Lars could only nod his head in agreement.

"But we don't have much of a use for monetary policy these days. We don't have dollars or euros . . . we only have each other. Now, you have something that I need so I must have something that you need."

Patrick's hand glided over the keypad and the door slid open. He pulled out a plush, leather chair for his guest to sit in.

"Go on. Name your demand. Don't be shy."

Lars pulled out the five stacks of twenty batteries from his knapsack and set them on the table.

"Mostly I've been trading my batteries for little trinkets and shit but now I need a gun."

Patrick nodded his head. "That can be arranged. I do know that the weapons that the Colonists have aren't exactly the most reliable. So which gun are you looking for exactly? A rifle? Or perhaps another pistol?"

Lazarus was surprised. "Another? How'd you find that out?"

"It's pertinent that I know everything. From this office I can observe my city in peace. Nothing eludes my perception. Anyhow . . . a gun, was it?"

"Not just any gun. I want an EMP gun."

Patrick's lower lip jutted out slightly and he began to nod his head yet again. "An EMP gun? That . . . could be arranged."

Lars noticed the change in his diction. "Wait a minute. A second ago you told me that you _can_ get me a gun."

"Well, there are some technicalities that I would have to work out. You see, we don't make EMP guns available to the Market. There are an exact count of two-hundred EMP guns located in the military bunker. They were created for just one purpose: Stalkers. If one goes missing there could be some problems and probing that could lead back to the source."

"But I'm trading batteries for it. Shouldn't that be good enough?"

"I'm afraid that good enough nearly isn't _good enough_ these days. The people just don't trust anyone outside our walls. While other commodities of trade are looked upon favorably, the trading of arms is frowned upon."

"So what am I supposed to do in the meantime? I planned on leaving the city today."

Patrick frowned. "Today? That makes things even more difficult."

Lars began to stuff the batteries back inside of his knapsack. "If you can't do it by today then the deals off. Sorry but I've got a tight schedule."

"No need for rash decisions, Lazarus. You'll get your weapon by today . . . but you may have to wait."

Lars let go of the knapsack and then thought to himself. _Well, I am tired._

"Okay, I'll wait another two hours. After that, you give me my gun . . . or my batteries."

"As a man of business, you have my word. Anyhow, feel free to explore Liberty City. I know there isn't much to see but make yourself at home for this may be the last human inhabited establishment that you see," Patrick turned from the windows and stared into Lazarus's eyes, "in a very long time."

Patrick refaced the windows overlooking his city and clasped his hands behind his back.

"I have nothing more to say. Good day then."

Louis and Lazarus silently exited the office and made haste for the elevator doors.

"Patrick's a scary guy."

Louis had to nod his head in agreement. "I know. Many people say that when they first meet him. Hell, I thought he was too at first."

"Did you? And here I was thinking that the almighty Louis wasn't scared of a damn thing. All the Stalkers in the world couldn't make you buckle yet you're telling me that Patrick scared you on first sight?"

"He's . . . got a special talent of appearing so innocent, yet you just know that he has Stalkers in his closet."

They stepped out of the elevator, back at the lobby floor.

"I wonder what he's truly like."

Louis smiled and shook his head. "I don't think I ever want to find out."

Patrick waited for the hiss of the door behind him before he sat back at his desk.

He pressed a couple buttons located on what seemed to be a very thin piece of glass. A voice resonated from it.

"Yes, Mr. Sinner?"

"I would like to have a private tour of our underground arsenal. I'm very interested in seeing our stockpile of EMP weaponry."

"Right away, Mr. Sinner."

"And remember, I want a private tour."

A pause.

"By myself."

"Number thirteen. Maria Hawking."

"Number ten. Frederick Wolfgang."

_I feel trapped._

"Number seven. Antonio Ramos."

_Why am I here when I could be with my daughter?_

Number four. Adam Savage."

_I never asked for this._

"Number one. John Eager."

Eager slowly stood up and made his way to his station. His unit. His prison.

_I feel like an inmate. Why are we assigned numbers? Why must this be kept from the public? Why must this be so far away from the city?_

Many thoughts, mostly rhetorical questions, ran through John's mind; but while the others could be rationalized and answered . . . there was one that he could not answer even himself.

_When will I see Kayla again? How old will she be when I get out?_

The technology readily available to the staff was top-notch and all in mint, or near mint, condition. They had a working network set up down in the underground base as well as other facilities. It was even sanitary and John could only wonder how long Patrick had been preparing this project.

He sat on his swivel chair and then pulled out a crumpled up piece of paper from underneath his lab coat. He unfolded it. A picture of a much younger Kayla.

John smiled bitterly and taped it to the computer screen.

_I'll be home soon. I promise._

A heavy metal door slowly grated open. A shadow of a tall man fell across the metal floor. It was covered up once again. There was the hollow tone of shoe hitting metal as someone made their way down the stairs. This noise was masked by the skittering of shuffling feet from an adjacent hallway.

"Ah, Mr. Shinner! Shuch a pleashant shurprise to see you here. I believe zhat you vanted a tour, yesh?"

Patrick frowned at the man's heavy accent. _Even after all this time he still hasn't fixed it?_

"I wanted a tour but I suppose that the fool forgot to mention that I wanted this to be private."

"No, no, no. He told me everything purfectly. I just vanted to show you shomething my team has been vorking on in ze labs."

"A new weapon?"

"Not new. Refined. Come, follow me. I'm sure you're curious."

Patrick followed the man in the opposite direction of the arsenal hold.

"I have received much feedback on ze problems of ze EMP gun. So my team decided to fix some of zhose problems."

The inventor led Patrick through a security padded door. Inside there was a group of about ten individuals all spaced out at separate work tables. On each table there was a different assortment of technological compartments.

"Ze prototype zhat we are working on is all ze way back here." Another security padded door.

"Zis is what I call ze EMPP. EMP Pistol. Not only is it lighter and more mo-bile, but it is also faster zhan ze EMP gun."

Patrick finally smiled. "You've captured my full attention. Tell me, have you tested this?"

"Yes and no. It is still a prototype, no? We have tested it and it functions withzout any problems, but we have not yet tested it on a Stalkuh."

"So you're not sure if this could effectively put down a Stalker?"

"Ve suspect it can."

Patrick waved it off. "Very well. Could I procure one of these, by any chance?"

"Yes, I suppose I could give you one for testing. But . . . vhat use vould come from it? You are not a patrol unit or a miliza unit."

Patrick flashed him a reassuring smile. "For personal protection. You never know when something could go _horribly_ wrong."

The smile was not so reassuring to the inventor. He shuddered slightly and nodded.

"Yes, of curse. Pershonal protection, no?" He gingerly plucked the EMPP from its stand and handed it to Patrick.

"But first how do you load the weapon?"

He exclaimed, "Like any other pishtol, of curse!"

"Show me."

"Zhere are two holes at ze bottom of ze handle. Batteries go in zhere, obvioushly. When rounds are empty, just press ze release button on ze side, right here, and ze batteries fall out."

"Right I understood all that but how does the batteries stay stationary?"

The small man rolled his eyes. "A lock and release type function. Once you slide ze batteries in far enough, it will lock into place followed by ze sound of a click. Zhen you release it by pressing ze button here. Look carefully . . . zee?"

Patrick snapped, "I know that!" He extended his hand. "Now, the pistol."

Lazarus made his way back up the steps leading to the Tower. A single man was waiting for him. Lazarus looked around for the case that would be holding his EMP gun but apparently there were no boxes or crates to be found.

"I guess you couldn't get what I wanted."

"Correct."

"So where's my batteries?"

"Just a second Mr. freelancer. I said that I didn't get what _you_ wanted. Instead I got something better."

"So, what is it?"

"EMPP"

"Electromagnetic Pulse? That's it?"

"No, no. You misunderstand. An E.M.P.P. Electromagnetic Pulse Pistol."

Patrick pulled out a seemingly average pistol from beneath his vest; but, upon closer inspection, it was obvious to Lazarus that this was no ordinary pistol. It definitely carried more weight than any other pistol he had ever handled. Weighing in at a best's guess of five-eight pounds.

"So how come I didn't see any EMPPs on the guards at the towers? And why didn't Louis tell me about them?"

"They are a . . . new product."

Lazarus nodded his head. "Figures. Does it work?"

"Guaranteed. It has been tested . . . I give you my word."

"Thanks for the business."

Patrick shook his hand and, after thinking about it, allowed a cheery smile. "No, by all means, the pleasure is mine."


	5. Chapter 5

_Chimerical_Knave_

**Alpha**

**5

* * *

**

Lazarus trudged through the thick dirt and sand that stretched for miles and miles. Around him, there were the remains and rubble of once standing structures. What was left was nothing but weathered away stone and bleak colors. Any standing buildings that were left featured large sections crumbling away.

Lazarus ignored many of the obstacles, keeping a steady pace and either moving around them, over them, or, in some cases, under them. Many of the roads were blockaded with piles of debris or boxed in vehicles so he didn't have much of a choice. The only other option was to take the river that was nearby but it wasn't a very effective or speedy route without a means of transportation. There was also the ocean to his left which certainly needed boat transportation.

Lazarus looked back and in the distance across the river he saw a large turquoise statue of what looked like a garbed figure holding a torch in its right hand; it's right arm was missing, probably lost in the river somewhere.

He tightened the straps on his knapsack, turned around, and continued his long trek south, where the Colony resided.

"Adding nano-bots to tissue sample A. They are reciprocating damaged areas with repairs. Tissue regeneration is progressing steadily."

John slowly lifted the tube away and sealed it off.

"Nano-bots are treating the tissue as they were designed to do. There are no signs of agitation or changes in the pattern of the nano-bots. Everything is . . . functioning in perfect harmony."

He shook his head and turned away from the observation table. John looked to Maria and said, "I don't understand. When we use the nano-bots on tissue they react normally. I don't understand why they become agitated when injected into the human body."

"Strange. Let's try the nano-bots on sample tissue B."

The results were nearly the same - the only difference was the reaction time. The nano-bots reacted quicker this time.

Maria jotted a couple words down onto her notepad. "Okay. The response time was quicker. Fat content of the tissue was eight percent."

John put down his notepad and inquired, "It's a farfetched guess but as good as any other. Let's move onto tissue sample C."

Maria locked the glass box tight and John added the tube of nano-bots through the opening at the top.

Maria furiously began scribbling down notes. "Amazing. Not only was the response time quicker but the nano-bots were also agitated."

"Apparently, the percentage of fat affects how the nano-bots respond."

"And here I was thinking that they randomly went berserk on us."

John waved her comment away. "Not so fast Hawking. We don't know that for sure. For all we know, the amount of fat is just another factor in the list of other things."

She nodded. "Right, right. More samples need to be scrutinized before we come up with a conclusion."

While other groups were fervently trying to figure out a way to battle the nano-bots within the human body, John's team was trying to figure out the origins of nano-bots rebellion. John's mentality was that the source of everything would solve everything. Not everyone on his team agreed with researching the causes of the nano-bot infection: Antonio Ramos and Adam Savage both disagreed and stated that finding the cause would do absolutely nothing. Maria, on the other hand, gave it some thought and finally agreed that finding the cause could be beneficial. The team was literally split down the center.

Antonio walked into the room and surveyed the observation table briefly. "I'm telling you it's superfluous to try and figure out the cause. Even if you did find the cause what good would that do?"

John never took his eyes off of the tissue sample. "It would give us a place to start instead of blindly trying to find something."

"Look, we don't need to learn the history of the nano-bots, we need to end it. When we find the solution, you aren't getting any recognition." With that said, Antonio swiftly left.

"I don't care about recognition!" John muttered to him and then to himself, "I only care about my daughter."

Lazarus had made the journey through a part of the city undisturbed—daylight was not favorable for the Stalkers. It was more of a personal peeve to them than actual danger—sunlight didn't actually harm them like it would to Count Dracula; with enough motivation and attention, the Stalkers would attack anyone in broad daylight.

He soon came across a steel structured bridge. It had numerous triangular steel beams crisscrossing along the sides; trusses as the engineers called them. Lazarus didn't know much about bridges but he knew enough. It was a cantilever type bridge with trusses, simple as that. A couple abandoned vehicles littered the road but it wasn't as crowded as the streets.

Certain areas of the bridge were cracked and a couple of trusses were damaged, rust was evident all over the surface. Steel beams laid deformed and piled in heaps. It was a wonder that the bridge was still mostly intact. Even though cars couldn't cross the bridge anymore—not that that there were any functioning left—it was still able to support a single human being.

He followed the weathered asphalt road for a couple hours until he reached an intersection of some sort. The road he had been traveling on had slowly transitioned into a bridge over another long winding road of asphalt.

He noticed that a large section of the bridge had given way. No way to cross it without risking the small strip of concrete collapsing under his weight. Not that he wanted to cross it.

He jumped over the steel railing and onto the dry earth next to it, slowly making his way down the hill and onto the highway below. A rusted, bent sign with a blue background read in faded letters and numbers: _Int s ate 95_. A faded white smear went across the second numeral but it was still legible.

Lazarus set his knapsack down and rummaged for something. A moment later he pulled out a tattered, faded map—unfolding it and laying it out onto the road. It was a map of the entire east coast. All over the map there were black lines that broke off into thicker black lines and every now and then there was an area on the map that was either circled around, colored in, or crossed out.

_"Let's see here. I'm on the 95 somewhere up here. And Liberty City is roughly around there."_ He chuckled to himself, _"And that must mean that I'm somewhere around here. New Jersey?"_

He rolled up the map and carefully set it back before continuing down the abandoned highway.

Approximately six-hundred miles from Lazarus's current position, there was a monument of a chapel. Built in the late 23rd century, this chapel had been built for longevity and artistic value. The skeleton of the entire chapel was made up of galvanized steel beams, some bent to form arches and others lined up in columns but all decoratively covered with granite slabs, the muscles were all flexed in the flashy, woven tapestries that hung from various areas, mostly the ceilings, within the chapel and the marble tiles spaced out like stepping stones—the area between the tiles were filled with growing grass—and the skin draped the outer concrete blocks that gave the building the medieval look and feel.

The cries and screams of children erupted near the back of the chapel. To be more specific, the sounds of youthful euphoria originated from the courtyard. A single rusted iron arch stood at the entrance while an iron fence surrounded the garden. The trees, shrubbery, and grass were all neatly trimmed to a fine line.

A short, withered old man stood watching over the crowd of bustling children in the center of the courtyard where the grass was the shortest. His right hand rested on the round grip of a cane while his left rested on top of his right. He wore a black overall that came all the way down to his feet. His hair was neatly trimmed just like the bushes and kept hidden under a cap. A few lines were etched across his face—a mark that came with old age—but his eyes were sharp and alive. Never losing sight of focus or falling to drowsiness. He shuffled slightly forward and a large shadow masked his.

The old man didn't even turn around. "Weather's nice today, isn't it, Butch?"

A deep, rich voice calmly whispered back, "Feels like yesterday's weather Father Alexander."

Butch towered over all men in the colonies, standing a head and a half above the second tallest colonist. He was literally a mortal titan with broad shoulders and a tree trunk for a neck. His hair was shaved thinly on the sides and the top, giving his head a somewhat of a boxed in look. A large chin protruded from the lower portion of his face. Even though Butch's form was formidable he was very calm and reserved in everything that he did. It surprised everyone that he took on the job of the chapel's caretaker instead of being a part of the Blessed Brigade or the Sacramental Knights.

"Well then . . . that's a bit odd to have two days of good weather."

Butch chuckled, "I suppose I'll say something and then you'll respond with something along the lines that its all the good grace of our lord, right?"

A smile formed on Father Alexander's slightly wrinkled face. "Your insight is almost as good as your foresight."

"And you can thank the good grace of the lord for bestowing that upon me."

Father Alexander's turned to face him. "Where is the new boy? I don't believe that I've had a good look at him yet."

Butch motioned toward his feet where a small black haired boy clung for dear life onto his pants. "As you can see, he is stuck to me."

"Hmm . . . maybe he has taken a liking to you? A strange one indeed. Normally, upon first glance, all children flee when you're in sight." He turned his attention to the boy and leaned down. "Tell me your name boy."

He looked toward Butch, as if asking him for permission to speak. Butch smiled and said, "Go on young one. Tell Father Alexander your name."

"Daniel."

"Daniel? I see, and where are you from, Daniel?"

"Not here."

"Do you think that you will like your new home?"

The boy paused for a second before replying, "I need to live here longer."

A smile formed at the left corner of Father Alexander's lips and he slowly got back to his feet. "He thinks differently from the rest of the children. He's got a bright mind for one so young. Butch?"

Butch, sensing something, stepped up next to Father Alexander. "Yes Father?"

"I have a favor to ask of you."

"Of course Father. Ask away."

"I want you to not only take care of the chapel but I want you to also watch over this boy."

"Whatever you say, Father. If I may be so bold to ask, will the fate of this child be for the better or the worse?"

Father Alexander looked at the ground where his small shadow fell side to side next to Butch's. "I can't be entirely sure. But this boy's future won't be one filled with holy scriptures and lessons."

"And are you sure that this path is the right one for him to take, Father?"

"I don't see any other way around it. He won't like being caged in."

Butch nodded. "I see . . . I'll take care of him until the traveler returns. He'll be better suited to teach the child than me."

Father Alexander began to shuffle his way back out the courtyard; the children all ran past him and into the chapel through it's back doors. He called out over his shoulder to Butch, "By all means, teach him however you see fit. He likes you and he'll listen to you."

Butch watched the billowing black robe disappear behind the door before he turned his attention back to Daniel.

"Butch is a funny name."

Butch frowned. "It's not my real name. My real name is actually Buchanan Tyler Harold."

Daniel frowned. "I like Butch better now. Your real name is too long."

Butch smiled and lifted the boy onto his right shoulder. "That's what everyone says after they hear that."

"How long have you been here?"

"For as long as I can remember."

"Do you really take care of this entire place?"

"All by myself, everyday."

"Is that why you're so big? Did you build this place too? How many men have you killed?"

Butch pat Daniel on the back softly. "You ask too many questions for your age. I'm big because it's by God's will, I didn't build this place, and I'm not going to say how many men I've killed."

"What is God's grace?"

"It's the wonderful power that's-

Butch paused and then stopped himself. "I mean . . . it's nothing. Just something that we colonists like to say."

Daniel stared at Butch but soon shrugged it off.

After taking a tour of the garden Daniel prodded Butch. "I'm hungry. Let's eat."

"There is a time and place for everything. The time to eat is not now, nor is this the place to eat."

Daniel frowned. "Who said that?"

"The Holy Council."

"Why?"

"Because certain rules were laid up for us to follow. And the Holy Council gave us those rules so we follow them."

"What if I don't want to follow them?"

"We're going to have to do something about that mouth of yours. I can't let you saying that everywhere we go. It'll get us both into deep trouble."

"Well, I'm hungry and I want to eat now."

Butch eyed Daniel, examining him. Not once had a child before ever questioned authority. This was a first. Butch slowly began to understand what Father Alexander meant when he said that Daniel thought differently. He wasn't obedient and quiet like most children around these areas; he was curious. Maybe, perhaps, a bit too curious.

Butch nodded. "Go ask Father Alexander if you want a snack. He's probably at the front sitting in his chair."

Daniel gave a nod along with a smile and ran inside.

Butch looked to the sky and sighed. He stepped inside the chapel and shut the doors behind him.


End file.
